I’ve always found it difficult to live in the moment, always been scared of losing what I’ve got, often to the point of not enjoying it. And now it seemed as if my fears were being realised.
what i mean: i haven’t written a single word about this. in fact i haven’t held a pen since 2015. every day when i take the train i maldaptive daydream about the possibilities of this fic and how the characters would interact, specifically when they have long intense heated glances across a busy room with enough raw yearning force to set off a jet plane and blueball me into oblivion. yes i have a ‘writing prompts’ tag for no fucking reason. no i can’t spell maladaptive
suchasinistergame 